To Live As People
by LoveforthegameBR
Summary: There was something about Gareth that Emma found solace in. They were the same, in an unconviental kind of way. Both roughed up by the world. Both propagating against all odds. - Gareth/OC - Pre-Cannibalism -
1. Within Ruins

**Title: To Live As People**

**Chapter I: Within Ruins, Part I**

**Chapter Summary: A survivor struggles to find refuge, but eventually stumbles into a godsend - Terminus. An empty station where home is found, Emma finds that this place is everything she needs. However, what happens when she meets some new people who think the same? The road is tough.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, I especially do not own it's rightful (and lovely) characters/locations. I do own my own original characters however, as well as the written plot.**

**Notes: I've finally decided to post my story - which I was too scared to do before, as I haven't written in over a year now - and try to bring some more work into this small portion of Gareth fans. I'm very excited to see how it all goes, but also quite terrified. I'm hopeful that this story is up to a good enough standard and that people enjoy it. I'm writing as I go along, however I do know how I want this to end. I'm presuming it may be anywhere from 10-15 chapters long. I'll be updating it every so often, though it won't be that frequent as I have exams, volunteering & work to complete. Also, the normal chapters won't be as long as this one - I've written it longer as it's my opening - but around half the length. The last thing is about the image banner for this fic - it's not staying. I've gotten a new laptop so I don't have my usual editor, thus the photo is quite bad. I will be changing it.**

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When Emma had first seen it - _really_ seen it, not just hidden behind obscure trees and bushes, but actually mere steps away - she had almost cried. Tears of joy, of happiness, of anger, even sadness; she wasn't too sure.

It was surreal. The road was - and had been for days - completely desolate. Apart from the creepers she had ran into on her way, there was no sign of any moving bodies that weren't cold.

It was simple, really. All she'd done was follow the tracks, however moss covered and eroded they'd become further down the path. It was meant to lead her to a safe haven, to anything that meant four walls and a roof. Logically, there had to be something at the end. Everything always ended in something.

Now here she was, standing outside the complex that expended around all sides, covered by fence and trees; bushes and ferns. She could see some had fallen, crumpled and trampled onto the floor, pushed down by what she could have guessed would have been a number of things. But it didn't matter. The fences could be fixed, anything else didn't matter too much anyway.

This was _her_ safe haven. It was hers and she had found it, trudging through mud and tears; pain and discovery. Though she still doubted. The thought had occurred to her an illogical amount of times on her journey, that if she was to make it this far up; if this was to end with shelter and the founding of something she needed - would it be safe?

Emma hadn't cared about much else, one way or another she had made herself the promise to follow the tracks here. The funny thing about desperation was that it was almost always spawned from a need to survive, but it was almost always the surest way to end up dead.

There was a patch of fence, where the early morning light reflected off the bars to hit the building with freshness and luminosity. It was almost too perfect, something so attainable.

The knife came out by this point, though Emma wasn't too sure when she had clasped it into her right hand, clenching onto the faded handle so tightly her knuckle whitened. It wasn't her knife in truth, but it she had found it abandoned inside a small cottage she came by. It was emptied, mostly, but the hunting knife had been buried beneath the rummaged remains of the kitchen.

_Weapons_, Emma thought, were underrated in the beginning. Underrated and underestimated. People went for food, for refuge; for loved ones. Emma had none of those, but she did have a handgun in her back pocket to compensate.

Her steps were slow, and the auburn leaves that had fallen and crumpled onto the ground crunched beneath her boots - steeled bottomed and heavy as hell - while her hand remained steadily grasping the knife, long point faced outwards, glimmering in the sun.

It hadn't taken long before she was inside the gates, a concreted path leading the way to twisted stairs of metal, unstable looking. She avoided them, opting to figure out later what that top floor held. Creepers, most probably.

She had killed _dozens_ - or was it more? - by now. Each time she plunged the knife into the head, or shot a small metal alloyed bullet through the skull, it got a little easier. A couple months in - Emma had estimated, but it could have been more now, it was hard to tell anymore - and she had mastered the art of killing.

It was the third week; when the creepers were attacking in the drones and no one quite understood how something like this could, or _would_ be happening, that she had killed her first one. Her boyfriend.

It scared her, how easy it was.

Victor was terrified, so much so that he had clung onto Emma's arm and pulled her towards a drifting creeper. It was in a small town, one they had previously lived in - in one of those stingy places that always smelt stale and smoke filled - and they'd gone back to find supplies. By that time people were realizing what was happening, all but in denial.

He'd been bitten on the arm, just below his shoulder. If someone had asked Emma she'd be able to tell them the exact way his face looked as it twisted and warped in pain; his eyes filled with fear. The way that the blood gushed onto the floor, staining it an oddly beautiful crimson. How the curtains matched it disturbingly well.

She shot him in the head.

No love was lost. Emma hadn't loved Victor, not really. It was never love, it was bad decisions and impulsive desire - for money, kindness, love; something. Emma had figured it for love at first, but she'd liked the idea of love and he'd liked the idea of a fresh young face.

The reports came in fast, and Emma had panicked. She had no one else to turn to, Victor - quite sadly, she'd admit - was all she had at that time. Her parents were estranged and hadn't talked for years, at least two. Even so that was only out of courtesy, the odd text of -

_Stay out of trouble, love mum & dad_

- didn't hold up too well.

Her brother was in back home in England when it started. They'd lost contact then and she'd lost hope. Emma loved him, more so than anything in the world. Coming to the realization that Dan was gone had killed her. For weeks she'd been just like another of the dead ones.

Who_ could_ she have turned to? Vic was all she had then and before didn't seem to matter much anymore.

Emma was reckless, stubborn and fell far too heavily into ideas. Victor had been an idea, one which her parents had disagreed strongly with. When Vic had asked for money, she hadn't thought twice about giving it to him, even if it wasn't hers. The ten thousand was the separating bar between her and her parents; the money was main the problem. Three years on and she still felt guilty.

She'd left a lot, she remembered. The first time she ran away it was because her parents told her she couldn't stay at her friend's house. She'd been fourteen and she was gone for two days; hidden so well that the police hadn't even been able to find her. When she came home it was because she wanted to.

It happened several more times over the years, until her parents hair started turning grey ten years too early and she became known as a trouble child.

When she was twenty-one, that had been the last time her parents bailed her out. They'd stopped calling her their misunderstood and troubled daughter, and just started calling her trouble.

It didn't take long - and it often doesn't when you're out on the streets - to end up falling into the wrong kind of business, with the wrong kind of people.

She was twenty-three when she was first arrested. It had been a claim of drug possession, and it was in the court where she'd met Victor. He was there on an account of petty assault and the way his eyes sparked with dangerous had lured Emma in.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Her thoughts pinched back to reality.

The first block was almost clear, apart from a few creepers that had smelt something other than rot and scattered around the corridor. They weren't a problem, and this part of the building was small, considerably so. The building as a whole however, was huge.

The further Emma ventured into the mid-lowest building, the more she realized how separated it all was. It was sectioned off, into large parts of buildings and stopping plate-forms. It was a daunting place, so big and isolated. The walls were all grey or filled in with bricks, the colors dull and rooms tatty with threadbare carpets. It reminded her of neglect.

Emma wondered down a corridor, which lead into the main complex station room. Above the door in worn down letters read "**SECTION D**".

The walls were the same faded grey as every other, ripped and crumpled in places where people had damaged the wall panels. There were chairs scattered on the floor, as well as large wooden tables. Papers lay forgotten and wrinkled on the floor, which was a dull olive green color.

"Section hold, tickets and inquiry desk," Emma read, studying the above walls that held words and information.

A quick scan of the large scaled map of the station indicated that she had been trying to clear the whole of section D. Together the station was made up of five sections, labeled A,B,C, D and E. She'd come through gate 3, and ended up in section D, which was one of the smaller buildings.

When she turned to her left, there was a body lengthened mirror plastered to the wall. It was the first time she'd seen her reflection in days.

Her rich brown hair was a mess of swirls and curls, tied up raggedly in a bun. The sides stuck up and some hair clung to her forehead. Her eyes - which were an odd blend of flecked browns, dark as her hair - were tired and red, rimmed with sleepless rings underneath.

It was her clothes that bothered her most. Her shirt was ripped, so it exposed the left side of her stomach; her hip bone jutting out and making her seem sickly thin. The black jeans she word clung to every inch of skin, dirt stained and worn. She wore knee high boots over them, to combat the cold and give her the ability to run through almost anything. Her jacket was ruined._ Dan's_ jacket.

"Shit."

Emma loosened her grip on her knife, clenching her eyes tightly together and breathing in. The task of clearing all the complex would take hours. She'd expected something smaller, something more easily handled.

The day was fading to a dull orange color, with sightings of copper in patches; the sun receding from view. Soon enough the sky would become an inky black and the light she had would disappear. The power didn't work and she didn't know how to fix it.

By the time the sky had settled into a darker orange and the sun was disappearing off into the horizon, Emma had cleared building D. There couldn't have been more than ten creepers here, all seeming to be employees who dressed in suits and ties or pin stripped skirts with blouses.

It was a wonder, Emma thought, that this place hadn't been overrun, or destroyed. The town which had been closest to here was small, giving the impression that there wasn't many people left in the area, but she still found it odd. The idea that no one had panicked and tried to jump on a train away from the wreck.

It felt like a miracle. And this place _was_ a miracle.

_A safe place, finally a safe place._ The road was unkind and Emma had become disheartened after the weeks spent on it, searching for food and shelter; wondering if today would be her last. Victor died early, she'd been alone for so long.

Her hands were unsteady as she re-sheathed her knife into a holder that wrapped around her thigh like a snake, squeezing uncomfortably. Victor had given it to her in the beginning, urging her to keep a weapon close at all times. It was tight and constricting, but it was safe.

Slowly she knelt down to the floor, wiping the sweat from her forehead and taking heavy breaths. Clearing the building was tiring work, and the day had seemed to drone on.

The room she was now occupying was one of twelve in the building D. Like all the other rooms - that appeared to either be waiting rooms or desk rooms - it was rummaged and plain featured. There wasn't much to scavenge, but she had found two bottled waters, some packeted and well hidden food and more than enough luxuries to sleep on; blankets and lounges included.

This room she had yet to inspect but it was emptied of anything living - or living dead, she supposed she should say - that would trouble her.

In the far corner though; concealed behind a large oak table and chairs, was what looked to be an overturned machine. The table had a print of crimson on it in the shape of a hand, the dried liquid leaking down the left side onto one of the upturned chairs. Curious, Emma stepped towards it.

Everything was red.

The blood was too dry for the incident to have happened recently, the smell too strong for it to have not festered for days - maybe _weeks_.

As Emma stepped closer her boots crackled against the floor, revealing scattered shards of glass. The glass, it appeared, had come from the machine that lay downwards facing the carpet that was crusted in blood.

Someone was here, though Emma could only estimate how long ago by the way the blood crusted to the furniture. The idea of them coming back was slim, if they'd survived at all. There was a lot of blood.

She couldn't identify the machine at first, but after stepping to all sides and inspecting the curves and faded color print of words, she assumed it was a vending machine. The thought was exciting, the idea of food even more so.

It was far too heavy for her to lift, but she tried anyway; for a long time. She gave up eventually, after what felt like an hour of kicking at the vender and swearing under all seven sins. She stepped a few feet away and slumped onto the floor, thudding softly as she made impact with the carpet.

"Bloody hell," she murmured, clenching her jaw.

Nothing else in the room was of use. The sky was black and her hands wouldn't stop trembling. She decided to sleep.

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The place was desolate. It had been two days.

Blocks B, D, C and E were emptied. Most of the buildings took a while to clear, but thankfully the doors were closed well enough so that the creepers were locked inside and couldn't get out. She made sure that the bodies were all piled outside, then she tried to forget them.

Emma had been sleeping in a series of isolated and featureless rooms. Everything was a shade too dark and the floor panels kept the building too cold for her taste.

The sky was blue now, filled with sad looking clouds that glazed over the sun. Emma prepared for rain and packed herself into section block E, which had become her favorite. It was still unavoidable dreary, but the building itself had potential. Section C and B had only been emptied buildings with no rooms, hollowed out into packing stations where some docking cars were still left uninhabited. None of them ran, the gas had been siphoned.

Emma still had to empty section A, which was the same size as block E. They were the largest buildings, though Emma assumed that unlike block E, A had no rooms inside at all.

She hesitated to call it home, in fear that it'd be overrun or someone with more weapons and people came along and decided they wanted it. But it felt like home; ugly and lifeless as it was on the inside.

She had to rid it of over twenty-five creepers so she could claim it, and blood had been spilled from both parties. Gashes lined the inside of her hands where she'd cut them on various objects, and there was a colorful trail of bruises down the left side of her face and body, from where she'd fallen down some stairs trying to avoid an oncoming creeper.

If it wasn't comfortable, then it at least had the potential to one day be so. She kept her hopes low, even so.

Section A had been left unchecked, but she so rarely saw creepers on the inside of the gates - she'd even been able to patch up the broken down fence on block B's side - that it hadn't worried her as much as it should.

It was later that day that she regretted not patching up gate E.

It hadn't sounded like much at first, she'd thought it for the muffled sound of creepers moans and dragged footfalls. As she crouched beside the second story window in section E, it became clear that she had assumed too much.

There was three of them.

Emma had grabbed her handgun and padded her way down the steps, making sure to throw her backpack - which was filled with packeted foods and bottled water she had found - into a small corner of the room, hidden and safe beside an exit.

She crept to the window, hands shaking so badly that the gun seemed to rattle. Her knife stayed sheathed on her thigh, her fingers automatically itching to grab at it, regardless of the gun in her trembling grasp.

She wasn't scared, so much as worried.

As they gained distance and came closer, she noticed that it was three men and one woman. One of the men was limping and holding onto the other for support. Her eyes ghosted over the stronger looking man's shoulder, which was holding an AK-47.

Her gun went up. "Stop where you are," her voice was surprisingly steady. "Put down your weapons or we'll start shooting!"

The lie fell off her tongue easily, though she prayed that they did as she said, as not to figure out that it was a lie.

They stopped and for one moment Emma wondered in worried anticipation if they were going to do as she said. The man with the AK-47 complied first, leaning the other man slowly onto the woman's helping shoulder. He whispered something she couldn't hear, but he pulled his weapon from off his shoulder and held it out in compliance.

"Don't shoot," he called back, his voice was also steady. "We came for shelter, not a fight."

Emma was clasping her gun so tightly her knuckles were all white and red. "Then do it!"

He placed his gun on the floor and held his hands up defensively, eyes searching for her hidden figure. He found it.

"All of you," she called. "Place any kind of weapon onto the floor."

The man hesitated before turning to the other, whispering into his ear once again. The limping one shook his head, seeming to disagree quite heavily with whatever the other had said. After another curt whisper, the one with the limp closed his eyes and nodded.

It was easily to see who the leader was.

A handgun came out of the man's back pocket, smaller than the one Emma held. He placed it on the ground. The woman - who Emma could see was a lot older than the two men - pulled a very small knife from seemingly out of nowhere. Her hands trembled as she placed it in front of her. The woman looked scared, and that eased Emma. They didn't look like the kind of evil she'd thought might try to take the station, but she still took the precautions.

"That's all of 'em," the leader called - he sounded irritated - and after a moment spoke again. "Look, we don't have much, we just need somewhere. He's badly hurt."

What could she say to that? Go away? If she did, would they? Most probably not.

There was only one thing she could think, staring from the foggy glass of block E. "Was he bitten? Attacked?"

"No, he's just hurt. Infected cut."

She thought on it for a moment, running through her options and coming up short. "Come forward, leave the weapons there."

They did so, hesitantly.

"Shit," she murmured. "Shit, shit, _shit_."

Her mind was coming to a blank, her options short. If she told them to leave she ran the risk of them attacking. One woman and a limping man couldn't do much, but neither could she given the circumstances. Besides, what kind of person would she be to demand their leave? He _was_ hurt.

"Stop there, I'm coming out."

She stood, giving the leader a better view of her. They locked eyes through the foggy glass of the window, before she turned on her heel and ran through the door. Paranoia gripped her at the thought that they might take this short moment to grab their weapons and attack. She wasn't sure if they believed her lie about there being more people.

Apparently, they had.

Her gun was held tightly, her head up high. "Who are you?" The question was vague, and the moment's silence made her feel silly for asking it.

"I'm Gareth, that's Alex," he pointed to the injured man, then the woman, "and that's Mary."

For the first time since their arrival, she took a good look at them. The woman - _Mary_ - was short and troubled looking. Her features were plain and her eyes were creased with worried wrinkles, her lips pressed tightly together.

Next to her stood the injured one. She could see his pants leg was soaked in dried blood, from the thigh to the knee. He was raggedy looking, with a sad sort of face that reminded her of a boy who had gotten in trouble from his parents. He looked a little younger than her.

The leader was her age, maybe. He wore faded clothes that hung over his figure, making him seem almost smaller. He was more clean looking than the other man, though she could see that they both shared some small features. She supposed they might all be related.

"You want shelter," she spoke, her words clipped and slow.

"_Please_," the woman spoke up, her voice meek. "We've been on the road, it's- it's-"

"Complete crap, yeah?" Emma finished.

She nodded, a look of understanding sweeping over her face. "You know."

"I do, yeah."

It was silent again, for an uncomfortable amount of time. Emma couldn't bring herself to invite them in, but she couldn't tell them to leave either. So she waited.

"You'll let us in?" The leader - _Gareth_ - asked.

"_We'll_ let you in," she corrected. "on a few conditions."

"Tell us," Alex asked, his voice was hoarse; it reminded her of pain.

"You give up your weapons," they looked about to protest. "-until we figure out what kinda sort you are. Also, you show us everything you have. And you agree to our rules."

"Deal," Gareth said, without consenting with the other two.

Emma nodded, slowly, and tried to sound threatening. "And if you try anything at all," her tone went dark. "You're all dead."


	2. All Our Decisions

**Title: To Live As People**

**Chapter I: All Our Decisions, Part II**

**Chapter Summary: Emma lets them in, but will she let them stay? The idea of being around people again is daunting. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, I especially do not own it's rightful (and lovely) characters/locations. I do own my own original characters however, as well as the written plot.**

**Notes: Another chapter! So far I've written up to chapter 6. Each chapter will have III parts. Like I promised, this won't be as long as the last, but hopefully it'll be enjoyable. It's a bit smaller than the average one, however. It's also a bit of a slow build up, so bare with me. Please leave reviews so I know if people are reading this. Without them I have no idea if it's even worth writing. They're very appreciated, as are you!**

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><p>OoOoOoOoO<p>

She'd let them in, reluctantly.

It hadn't taken them long to realize that Emma was alone, no matter how well she spun her web of lies. By the time the sky had gotten to it's usual orange flecked color; night looming in, they'd figured it.

It didn't matter by the time they'd guessed it - _Gareth_ guessed it - because by then she'd discerned that they weren't as dangerous as she had first thought. They were weak; lack of food and the constant burden of the road would do that to a person.

When she'd asked what had happened to Alex's leg, Gareth explained that they'd been running from a group of particularly nasty creepers - but he'd called them_ roamers_ - and he'd jumped a bummed fence. The fence was barb wired and it was a stupid thing to do, but the wire had gotten stuck into his leg, so he'd had to rip it out.

Emma hadn't the faintest clue how to fix it, she'd never learnt anything that would come in handy for that sort of medical situation. Mary had tried to stitch it up, using the string she'd found from the inside spine of books. It was a bloodied mess of jagged lines and miss-matched stitching, but it held.

Alex had hollered and cried, though he tried to hide his red face in embarrassment every time Emma glanced at him.

Eventually, she'd left the room. The allure of a cold breeze and air that wasn't stale with blood had appealed to her, so she walked to the stairs outside and sat down.

Her eyes closed tightly and she ran her hands down her face, breathing in a heavy sigh. The people inside didn't seem like killers, but the thoughts kept running through her mind, seeping into her head like a poison.

"Hey," a voice spoke, jolting her upwards.

"Don't do that," she said, shakily.

"Sorry, sorry," Gareth. "Look, I just wanted to thank you. For taking us in."

"Yeah, it's not like I had much of a choice."

"Everyone has a choice," his voice grew closer, until he was sitting beside her; not too close but beside her nonetheless.

A bitter laugh escaped her throat. "When you have a shit storm behind two doors, it's not much of a choice."

"Well," Gareth chuckled lightly. "Thanks for picking our door."

"Anytime," she replied. "Glad your friend stopped screaming now."

"He's my brother."

"Yeah?" She thought so. The features were similar in places, but still they didn't quite look like each other, she'd realized after a while. But they acted like brothers, at odd times.

He stretched out, lacing his hands in his lap. "Yeah, I get that. Mary's my mum."

"Kinda look different," Emma said, standing up. "For brothers."

Gareth's tone fell flat. "Me and Alex have different mums."

"Oh," she replied, her tone somewhat indifferent.

Emma still wasn't sure about Gareth, he held himself too well for her liking. If anyone of them were to become a threat, it would be him.

There was Mary, who was soft. Everything from her placate voice to her delicate hands. Emma had stopped earlier to watch her, and she'd wondered briefly how she was still so alive in such a cut throat world; still so loving.

Then there was Alex, who was weak. He looked for guidance and wasn't the least bit interested in leading. It was something she perceived from him almost immediately. The wound on his leg showed his inability to survive on his own, like a reflection.

But Gareth, he was a leader. He was _strong._

"Emma," Mary's soft voice cascaded into her thoughts.

The door was opened and Mary had her hand placed around the handle, looking at her expectantly. "Yeah?"

Her voice was laced with all the concern of a mother. "Do you have water? Alex is getting worse. I-I think he needs it."

After a moment of hesitation she stood up and moved towards the door. Her bag was hidden beside one of the exits, pushed up against the wall and covered over with one of the itchy blankets she hated. It didn't take her long to extract one of the waters she had collected here. Her hand hovered over the largest one but then moved to the smallest and pulled that one out. _I'm not a charity. I don't want to be taken for a ride._

Mary thanked her and took the water to Alex, who grabbed it hastily. It was almost empty by the time it left his dried lips. Emma was glad she'd given the smaller one to him.

A moment later and Gareth entered again, zipping up his jacket as he went. He moved to stand beside Alex, who was sitting on an old chair with his eyes closed and head propped up against the wall.

Emma hadn't been thinking much on it, but her own eyes were heavy with sleep deprivation. The dark rings around her eyes felt as if they were etching into her skin. She wondered if tonight she would sleep at all. All things considered; probably not.

"Mary," Alex called, fever taking his voice. "Take some water."

She lent over to him, taking the water from his grasp. "We should save it."

Gareth agreed, slumping down beside Alex. "Don't use it all, Alex."

A mumbled groan was all he replied with, clenching his eyes tightly and hugging his legs to his chest in an attempt to remain heated. Emma watched for a moment before she spoke up, feeling slightly guilty. "There's some blankets here. I'll get them."

"Thank you," Mary replied, tone all sincerity.

These people weren't going to kill her. How _could_ they?

The upstairs room four doors down had a lounge she slept in, where she'd gathered most of the blankets in E block together. It didn't take long to assemble some sheets and begin bringing them back down to the group.

_The group._ It was a daunting thought, with too many precautions and unwelcome ideas._ Is this my group now? Do they think that? Do I even want that?_

Emma's jaw stiffened and she distracted herself with the bedding. It was too hard to think about. She didn't quite know what to do just yet, she didn't know what she wanted.

The floor boards creaked in protest as she trot back down the corridor, thoughts deliberating her next move. So caught up in her thoughts, she didn't even hear the added footfalls to her own, or the creak of the stairs.

"You were gone a while," Gareth said, walking towards her. She looked quizzically at him for a moment, as if to ask what he wanted. "Thought you might need help."

He shrugged and made a jester with his hands that indicated he wanted to take some blankets. She shook her head. "No, I'm fine."

"I'm insisting," he replied, moving forwards. Emma didn't want the negotiation, so she just handed half to him.

"Thanks."

The trip down the stairs was filled in silence, which Emma had found odd. Her impression of Gareth was that he liked to talk, or at least seemed to. He was quiet at times, but from the way he spoke, it seemed to come easily to him. Being a leader it would have to, she supposed.

When they arrived back in the room, Alex was still propped up on the wall; though now he was asleep. Mary was sitting close, worry lacing her features. The candle that they had lit was sitting in the middle of them, flames licking up and dashing away at the hot wax, leaving a trail of goo underneath.

Emma handed Mary two blankets; one she wrapped around Alex and the other she used to wrap her up in. Gareth took one and laid the other two on the floor in the middle of the group, for spares.

She knew she needed to sleep, but the idea itself wasn't appealing to her. She decided on a breath of air, to get away from the group for a while. Her thoughts were jumbled and undecided, something that would keep her awake anyway.

No one asked where she was going, just let her leave through the heavy wooden doors on her own. She strolled to the stairs near the door and placed herself on the third step, pulling the sheet tightly around her figure.

There was no sounds of creepers anywhere close, nor was there any sight of them. Emma felt safe. And that was dangerous.

"Hey."

Emma didn't need to look up to know who it was. Gareth had seemed to be everywhere today, whenever she moved his eyes would stray to her. It worried her at first, but it didn't take long to see that it wasn't out of anything other than duty. He was protecting his family, making sure Emma was safe, as she was to him.

"Hey again," she replied, not bothering to look up.

He sat down across from her, on the first step. "I think we got off on a nasty start."

She didn't reply, but pulled her head out of her hands to stare across at him. His hair was a mess, she thought. It was sticking up in places and forming odd patterns around his face, which seemed paler than before. His eyes, she noted, where also more red._ Bloodshot._

"We're grateful, though," he continued. "No hard feelings?"

"You want to stay?" Emma asked, unable to avoid the question much longer.

"Are you asking us or inviting us?"

"Asking."

"Then I'm not sure."

She stood up, walking two steps up and towards him. "Cut the bullcrap. I want to know what you're thinking. This is my home."

"Fair enough," he also stood. "We wanna stay."

"And if I said no?"

"That'd be an awkward situation, wouldn't it?" he laughed, but it was pulled. "Look, we can pull our weight. Mum can help, so can Alex."

"What about you?"

"We both know I can."

She pondered on his words, taking into account several situations and thoughts. "How can I know to trust you people."

"You don't," he shrugged, as if that answered it.

The edges of her mouth pulled up into a half smile, but it was all tiredness. "I can't just _trust_ everyone."

"There are still good people. I know, I know, hard to believe, right? You're gonna have to take a chance."

"A gamble," she sighed.

He didn't reply, but watched her intently. He had brown eyes, she realized.

"Alright..." She was a good gambler. "You can stay."

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><p><span><strong>Just a special thank you section to all reviewers:<strong>

**_Leyshla Gisel:_ I feel the exact same way, which is why I decided to make this. Thank you so much for taking the time to be the first reviewer. Your words mean a lot & I'm hopeful that you will keep reading & enjoying! x**


	3. Attachments

**Title: To Live As People**

**Chapter I: Attachments, Part III**

**Chapter Summary: Attachments are beginning to slowly weave into Emma's life. The thought is less than welcome to her. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, I especially do not own it's rightful (and lovely) characters/locations. I do own my own original characters however, as well as the written plot.**

**Notes: This chapter is longer than intended, I started writing & just couldn't find the ending. Again, the relationship is a bit of a slow build so bare with me through the making. Also the updates have been going on every 2-3 days which won't be happening normally. I want to update once a week at most, just because I've only written eight chapters so far & I am super busy. I'm just trying to get to a point with my readers where they're involved in the story. The single most best thing that can happen to this story is you leaving a review. Believe me, they mean a lot. Any good writer would be lost without them. I really would love some feedback right now!**

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><p>OoOoOoOoO<p>

Her paranoia didn't fade all the way through, but she didn't regret it.

They held their weight, just like Gareth promised. A block had been cleared, twice as fast. The fence had been patched up properly, around all corners. They weren't starving. Plus Mary had taught Emma a handful of useful things.

It had been four days since she had sat on the stairs with Gareth; since she'd allowed them to stay with her. Three days of sleeping with one eye opened, and Emma could realize she didn't have to.

There had been so many days, when Emma couldn't get up. Being alone and worn down in a world that didn't give two shits, it was hard. She'd had no one; her parents were gone, her brother also dead most probably, and her boyfriend - _ex_-boyfriend, she reminded herself - was long dead. Who else did she have? There was no one else left to choose from.

Sometimes she woke up covered in sweat and crying. Her dreams all ended in death, and she saw her brother too many times. Even if she hadn't seen him die in reality, she'd already seen it played out in her dreams over and over again.

It'd been so lonely, she'd realized after waking up to see Mary cooking one morning. She wouldn't say she actually cared about them; not yet. She hoped to keep it that way, but she liked having someone _there_. It made getting up easier somehow.

She found that Mary was good company, though she did have to mind the language she used in her presence. Mary reminded her of the type of mum that she used to get jealous that her friends had. She imagined Mary would have baked, before all this.

Alex was still a little bit ill with fever, though his temperature was down by half, and he was moving around more now. He'd been lucky that the infection hadn't gotten as bad as it could have, or he might have died. Mary was largely to thank for that, though Alex seemed to forget that at times.

Gareth was quite smart, she found out. Though, he seemed to have a problem with being told what to do at times. He was a leader through and through, regardless of where he was. He was the most help, especially when it came to the heavy lifting.

Their weapons had been returned to them, though not without reluctance. Emma figured in the worst case scenario she could at least take out one of them, though she found the thought irked her.

She didn't like thinking about all the situations that could happen; all the things that could go so terribly wrong for her. She blocked them out, focusing on walking the length of the narrow hallway instead.

"Gareth," Emma called, searching. She needed help with the vender machine, the one that was caked in blood in one of the blocks. It'd taken her a while to figure out that she could in fact ask for the help; they weren't going to rob her.

She scooted into a small door, with the frame unhinged and hanging slightly to the left. She was in block A, the one she'd cleared with Gareth and Alex. Mary hadn't come, instead opting to try to cook them something out of the canned goods and packeted junk they'd collected. They'd done it fairly quickly, so Mary wasn't needed anyway.

Gareth came into this building, she was certain. Along the corridor the walls were scratched and damaged, giving the whole place an air of neglect.

"Gareth," she called, walking through a hollow doorway. "You here?"

"Yeah?" he called, from somewhere in the distance. It took her a moment and two more doorways until she found him, picking through an old file case.

"What're you doing?"

"Looking for anything useful. And finding nothing," he replied, raising an eyebrow at an old booklet in his hand, before dropping it to the ground. "What's wrong?"

"There's just this food vender, I think. It's tipped and heavy. I couldn't lift it."

"So you want me to?" he asked, sounding less like a question and more like a statement. His voice did that sometimes.

"Yeah," she replied, walking to an old table and picking up a magazine with the words "**TWENTY-EIGHT GLASSES**" sprawled on the top.

"Alright," he stood up, dusting invisible flecks off his pants. "But I gotta ask something first."

Emma dropped the magazine back onto the table. "So ask the question."

"You're from England, aren't you?" he sounded genuinely interested. "When'd you move here?"

"Accent? Dead giveaway, huh," he nodded, and she continued. "Moved here about... eight - nine, years ago."

"Long time."

"Too long," she replied. Emma headed for the door, signaling him to follow with a nod of her head. "Important question, huh?"

"I was curious," Gareth smiled.

Emma nodded. "It's in the next block."

It didn't take long until they were in the next block, walking through the broken down door into the blood stained room. It smelt worse than she remembered, though she wasn't certain if it was because she was already aware of the blood inking the carpet and furniture.

Nothing had been moved, nobody had really come into this block much. Emma had assured them that she had cleared it, and it seemed a waste of time to re-inspect it. She hadn't wanted them to come in and take it, just in case they couldn't be trusted.

Gareth didn't seem to worry about the stale smell of the room, instead walking right in and following Emma's directions to the vender. When he saw it, he smiled. "I hope there's still food in there."

"Gotta be," she replied, though she wasn't sure.

He directed her to one side and assured her they didn't need Alex to help - rather defensively, she thought - and that they'd tip it up in minutes. He was right.

There was an almighty bang as the machine landed back onto it's correct legs, wobbling slightly from the impact on the ground. They both pushed as hard as they could until it was all the way upright and unyielding.

Packets of food dropped everywhere to the floor. The glass had been broken. It was cracked from top to bottom and a large portion of glass had been taken from the middle. The jagged pieces were all crimson; stained in blood.

"Someone got hungry," Emma muttered. It was an understatement, she supposed.

Gareth laughed.

The sound was almost foreign to her ears and she realized that she had never heard him laugh so lively. The machine laying upright with bags of candy and chocolates, paired with the laughter of another human made her remember better times, if only for a moment.

She laughed too.

"Let's get this back," Gareth said, scooping the fallen packets into his hand.

Emma flung the backpack she was carrying over her shoulder and began loading the food into it, pushing down to make more room. Gareth pulled some of the remaining bars from out of the machine, careful not to slice himself on the shards of glass.

The last shelf was at the bottom, and the glass still surrounded it. Gareth cautiously slid his hand between the glass and locked onto a packet of Oreo. He continued the process, reaching watchfully for each packet.

Emma turned her attention over to the other side of the room, inspecting the walls. There was writing everywhere, letters and documents; maps and information. One of the leaflets that hung on the wall read, in thick blue letters; "**TERMINUS STATION"**.

She slowly traced the words with her index finger, running it down the page to the end of the last letter. The words weren't new to her, she'd read them on almost every section in the station at one point or another. It felt new, however.

"Terminus, huh?" Gareth said, looking over to the wall she was staring at.

"Weird name."

"I like it," Gareth responded, testing the words in his mouth. "_Terminus_. Got a ring to it."

Emma scrunched up her nose. She wasn't sure that it did, but she didn't say so. "Yeah."

"What? You don't think so?"

She strolled over to him, kneeling down and picking up a bag of food. "Yeah, no. Not really." It was chocolate rollers.

"You've got no taste," he scoffed, smiling.

Without even thinking about it, she tossed the bag of chocolates at him. It hit him in the shoulder and rolled back onto the floor, leaving Gareth clutching at his arm in both mock hurt and surprise.

"Hey!"

"It slipped," she shrugged, raising her eyebrows in a jester of indifference, though she felt the sides of her mouth curve up, forming a slight smile.

Gareth looked as if he was going to say something, but instead chose to shake his head and laugh. Turning back to the machine, he set to work on getting the last three packets out.

Emma turned back to the table, where some of the food lay out of the bag. She set to stashing it away inside, her thoughts creeping up uninvited. _When did I become so friendly with them? I shouldn't be like that. I shouldn't get attached. _

The silence was broken by Gareth a moment later. "Y'know there was thi- _Shit!_"

There was a moment where her heart stopped, as she spun around to see what had happened.

Blood was everywhere. Gareth was pulling a face, his features twisted in pain. She wondered briefly if this was the first time he'd injured himself, going by the way he reacted to the gash running down his arm. It frightened her to realize that Victor had made the same face before he died.

"Goddammit!"

Emma ran over to his side, grabbing at his arm. He pulled away from her when she tried to take his hand, too focused on keeping his other hand over the wound. It ran from the side of his palm to down his arm, cutting off a little ways under his wrist. It wasn't terribly long but it was deep;_ too_ deep.

"Take off your shirt," Emma demanded, her heart heavy in her chest.

"What?" he squeezed down harder on the wound, trying to stop the on pour of blood.

"Take it off, I need to wrap it. Hurry up."

They stared at each other for a moment, before Gareth looked down and slowly removed his hand from the side of his wounded arm. Emma replaced his hand with her own, though she placed it on his elbow, steadying him. Her other hand moved towards his stomach, picking at the fabric of his shirt, trying to tug it up.

She regretted not wearing something over her singlet that she could use, but for now his shirt would have to do.

"Bloody hell," Emma cursed.

He began pulling it upwards, hissing in pain as he moved his other arm up as well. Emma pulled the other side up, until it was over his shoulder and onto the floor.

He was skinny. The baggy clothes he wore hid it somewhat, but standing free of the fabric Emma could see that he was. Not terribly so, but he was slender. He had a light amount of hair on his chest and there was a small trail of hair formed on his stomach and moving down to his waistband. She averted her eyes quickly, feeling shaken.

"Don't touch it," she swatted his hand away from the wound. "It might infect if you keep touching it."

She lent down and grabbed his t-shirt, which he had accidentally dropped as the surge of pain shot through his arm. The fabric was dirty and less than soft, but it was better than letting him bleed out everywhere. Next, she didn't think; she acted.

The shirt was being wrapped around his wound in seconds, pulled tightly into a knot. "C'mon."

He followed her out of the room, grabbing his upper arm for support. He was still groaning in pain, the wound turning an angry red.

"Mary will fix it, yeah?" Emma said in reassurance, mostly to herself.

She didn't want Gareth to die, she realized. Not because she cared about him - because she didn't particularly know him, really - but because she didn't think she could stand seeing any more death.

The walk to Mary was agonizing. Emma held onto Gareth, her arm clinging onto his elbow and pulling him along. He didn't speak, but every few seconds he'd hiss or make some painful noise that assaulted her ears.

"Gareth!" Mary exclaimed, seeing him move closer. "Gareth, are you alright? What happened?"

He didn't respond, so Emma did for him. "He cut himself pretty badly on some glass. Can you fix it?"

"I don't know," Mary said, frantic. "I don't..."

"Yeah, it's alright," Emma cut her off, giving her a soft smile. "It'll be alright."

"Can you... _ugh_," Gareth struggled, clutching his arm so tightly that bruises were forming; swirling colors of red and purple.

"Sit down," Mary ran to grab an old splintery oak chair, dragging it over. "I'll clean it."

Emma helped Gareth to ease into the chair, clutching his shoulders and pushing him down lightly. He didn't protest, but laid his back against the frame of the chair and let his head drop back, a hiss escaping him.

"Whoa, what the hell?" Alex yelled, finally coming over. He was out somewhere in block B - Emma wasn't sure what he was doing there.

"Gareth is hurt," Mary was flustered and the words came out too quickly and jumbled. "With glass. It was - there was g-glass."

"Oi, go get some water," Emma told Alex, who was watching with a red face. "And some fabric. Hurry."

Alex ran in the direction of their block, where they kept all their things of importance; food, blankets, water. It was all where they slept, hidden tightly in the corners and shelves stored there.

_Our block? When did it become our block, not my block?_

Personal attachments were being made, and that scared Emma unbelievably. It had only been four days, but there it was. _Our_ block, _our_ food, _our_ water,_ our_ home. Nothing solely belonged to her anymore. She wasn't sure if that bothered her as much as it should have.

"Here," Alex returned and shoved two bottled waters and a blanket toward Emma, hands shaking.

She handed the blankets to Mary, who began tarring off pieces. Emma placed the water onto the ground beside Gareth and leant down, grabbing his elbow again. "This'll hurt."

The fabric of his shirt had clung to the wound, inching deeper into it and turning a lively cardinal color. Emma's hands deftly hovered over the wound, before seizing a small piece of the fabric, gently pulling the side up. The wound was already festering; the colors ranging from red to blue.

Gareth grabbed her hand and clenched his jaw stiffly, breathing in a jagged breath. Emma imagined it would hurt very much, but the fact that he was stopping further progress irritation her nonetheless.

"If I don't do this it'll get infected, right?" Emma spoke quickly, annoyance lacing her words. "So get over it and lemme do it, yeah?"

Even through his heavy breathing and tightened jaw, he managed to roll his eyes. Slowly he removed his hand from hers, balling it up into a fist and laying it on his other leg. She nodded slowly and began to peel again.

There was no screaming or crying with Gareth, just the occasional hiss when she ran her fingers over a particularly swollen part. He'd clench his fist and close his eyes, but he didn't go to move his hand back near the wound. Sometimes he'd breath in too heavily and she'd have to place her hand on his knee to still him.

"Almost done," Mary told him, placing a hand tenderly onto his shoulder.

The fabric of the blanket had been torn into ten pieces; they'd used three, as well as a whole bottle of water to make sure there was no dirt or anything that might infect it. Emma had remembered that she'd also mustered up a large sum of liquor from A block; they'd used half a bottle of that too.

Eventually his arm stopped bleeding and the hisses of pain reduced until he was breathing normally again. Emma hadn't even realized but she'd been holding her breath.

Alex had stood there the whole time, red in the face and hands fidgety. It surprised Emma that he didn't seem more concerned, he didn't try to comfort Gareth like Mary, not even like _she_ did. He did seem anxious though, but it came through a little nonchalant. They were odd with each other, sometimes.

It was getting later, the sun was fading in the horizon. Emma looked out the window of block C and saw that the few thin strips of clouds had began turning a shimmering golden orange. It would be best to head back over to E block, to get their supplies together and rest.

Everyday by the time the sun went down and the night came out, Emma made sure that everyone was safely inside E block. They'd put furniture against the walls and kept the windows sealed with planks and whatever else they could find. Often creepers came past in the night, sometimes in groups. They were too hard to fight in the dark, so she didn't take the chance.

"Let's head back," Emma said, gathering up the cloth left over.

Mary nodded in agreement and hovered over Gareth as he stood to make for the door, looking sickly worried. Alex followed her, head down.

Standing up, Emma trailed behind Alex to the door. Gareth was standing beside Mary, cradling his arm. She felt a pang of grief seeing him like that, so she averted her eyes from looking to him. _When did I start caring so much?_

It was a sudden and disconcerting thought. _Did_ she care? Is that why her hands were shaking more so than normal? Why her body felt twice as heavy as she carried herself to block E, her legs trembling with each step?

_No_. Attachments _weren't_ a good idea, she knew this. But god, she _was_ starting to get attached.

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><p><span><strong>Just a special thank you section to all reviewers:<strong>

**_Leyshla Gisel:_ There was a little time skip in this one so hopefully her actions all make sense. I think that in a world like this - where basically everything has gone to shit - it'd be easier to form attachments to people who prove themselves worthy of them, especially after being alone for so long. Thanks again for another review!**


	4. I'll Take Your Word

**Title: To Live As People**

**Chapter II: I'll Take Your Word, Part I**

**Chapter Summary: Gareth and Emma have a strange relationship & she's still reluctant to believe much else.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, I especially do not own it's rightful (and lovely) characters/locations. I do own my own original characters however, as well as the written plot.**

**Notes: We've now ventured into chapter II! I hope that the ride so far has been enjoyable. I'm very excited to continue producing chapters, though I'm afraid I might lose some enthusiasm soon - as I tend to do, unfortunately - so I'm trying to write as many chapters as I can. This is a story that I really want to complete, as I've already got the ending sorted - one which I'm sure will be quite controversial. So far I've written up to chapter 10, though I'm waiting for more people to read before I roll them all out. Please remember to review, as they really do keep me writing, as well as keep the chapters coming. I've not had many reviews, so there very wanted when it comes to keeping the updates going.**

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><p>OoOoOoOoO<p>

The fever lasted three days.

Gareth heated up one moment, and the next he was down in a chilled state of sickness. Emma stayed with him through a lot of it, via his request.

When he first asked her to sit with him, she'd been dazed and tired, all too easy to comply. Mary had been out with Alex checking the perimeter, and Gareth had been fever ridden and confused. She'd stayed with him because Mary asked her to, but it was him who wanted her company -_ any_ company.

She hadn't slept in almost two days and she was feeling more than a little fatigued. Her food rations were down as well. They were running low on food, Emma guessed that they'd have none in only three days, tops. Even with the vender food - which wasn't all too much - they were still too low. Water was even lower.

Alex had asked her about going on a run, but she'd been hesitant and that scared him away slightly. He liked her, she thought. He was anything but her type, so she steered mostly clear of being alone with him, in fear that he might ask something that she couldn't give and ruin the neutrality of their relationship. In all honesty she was waiting for Gareth to get better, to go with him.

Sometimes Gareth reminded her of Victor. Not overly, but there was something there in the way he spoke that triggered it. He wasn't a complete prick like Victor had been, but sometimes when he spoke to her she could hear him in his voice. When Vic was soft and they'd first met each other, before she knew any better of him. It still worried her, slightly.

He was sleeping now, curled up tightly in three blankets. Alex and her had - rather loudly and unpleasantly - taken the lounge down from upstairs and placed it in the main room. They'd done the same with three others from the opposite blocks; one for each of them.

She didn't like doing things with Alex. She didn't mind him, in fact she liked him, but when they had to work together she always got annoyed. He wasn't half as competent as Gareth and he pursued her guidance far too often. He wasn't stupid, but he just wasn't a leader.

The lounges were uncomfortable for Emma, not because they actually were confining but because they were too soft and cushioned. She'd become accustomed to the disagreeable lifestyle of sleeping on floors and huddling in small places.

One night a couple of days ago Mary had confessed to feeling uncomfortable with Emma's sleeping habits - or lack of. She hardly slept, and when she did it was in short bursts and upright positions, with a knife tucked into her hand. Mary said it worried her that she didn't trust them. Emma said it wasn't because of them, but refused to change her habits and get rid of the knife.

It was hard to be around people again, to realize that other people have their own motives and desires away from yours. It had been stone cold survival for so long, even before the outbreak Emma was always trying to get by on her own. Now _she_ had become _we_. It had become harder to look out for herself, now that she felt strings forming to others. It reminded her of something.

When Emma was twenty-three she had gotten the news of a baby. She cried about it for weeks, and when Vic found out he'd yelled at her.

She'd lost her - _Abby,_ she was going to name her - months later. The doctors had told her that she wouldn't be able to have children and that Abby was her little miracle. Vic told her that she was anything but, and made clear he wasn't sticking around to see her.

When the time came and she rushed herself to hospital, she didn't desire Vic in her life anyway. It was a fresh start, away from the drugs and the thrifting lifestyle. It was her and her daughter, and nothing else mattered.

When they'd permitted her to go home after it all happened; she'd screamed and cried. Her landlords kicked her out of her apartment after she trashed everything, throwing things and kicking them against windows and walls in anger and sadness; confusion.

But it was something she'd never forget; that feeling of protectiveness. Learning that there was something - _someone_ - that was completely under her care. She'd learnt how to worry for another, how to nurture something besides herself.

Over the last three days she felt something similar. She felt as though she was some form of glue, keeping them all safe while Gareth couldn't. _Protecting_ them.

It felt like some form of duty that she watched over them. The days had worn on and no matter how many times she denied it or argued with herself over it, it was getting too hard to disagree with the fact that she was starting to get attached.

The idea of them was something she needed. A thing to protect, to live for. She couldn't say why, and she didn't really want to think about it.

"Emma," Gareth's sleep stained voice startled her from her thoughts. She looked up towards him and noticed he'd propped himself up onto his elbows. "Where are they?"

"Checking the fences," she replied, standing up and making her way to him. "They're safe."

He nodded and coughed once, chest heaving with the movement. Emma strode past him and plucked up her bag, dropping it onto the table. She rummaged through for a moment before her hand grasped a bottled water, and she pulled it out.

"Here," Emma made her way back to him, handing it over. He took it without protest, too tired to argue over rationing.

He was better now, but sweat still beaded around his forehead and his body temperature seemed a bit lower than normal. Alex had been the same, until a few days ago when he was able to move around more. She supposed it was a waiting game now.

"Thanks," he said, handing it back.

"Keep it there, you might need it again and I'm not going to be serving you all day."

Gareth laughed, the small and worn out kind. "Sure."

The door creaked open, Mary and Alex stepping inside together. Gareth made a sound that reminded Emma of something disapproving and laid back down.

"All safe," Alex exclaimed, making way to the sofa and plopping down.

"No creepers?" Emma asked. Alex chuckled and she stared towards him. "Something funny?"

"Creepers," he repeated, smiling. "Why creepers? Roamers sounds better. No, wait- _cold bodies_ sound better."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Call them whatever, I don't care."

Alex raised his eyebrows and held up his hands defensively. Emma saw him start to turn red and wondered if he thought she was offended.

She ignored it. "We need food."

It was Gareth who replied. "We can go out tomorrow. Head East and scout the area out, see what's there. I'll go with Emma."

"No," Emma said automatically, sighing with frustration. "I'll go with Alex."

"_What_?" Gareth snorted. "No."

"I don't wanna hear it," she wasn't suggesting. "You wanna die or something?"

"I'm fine now, alright?"

"The bloody hell is wrong with you? You've been sick and asleep all day."

Alex quickly cut in, sitting upright, then standing. "Hey, I'll go with Emma. What's the big deal, Gareth?"

He looked both antagonized and tired. "The big deal is you _can't_, alright? Alex, you can barely do anything half the time," his tone was unintentionally hurtful. "Besides, someone has to look after Mary and keep this place safe."

The room was silent. "Screw you, Gareth," Alex finally said, then moved towards the door, looking provoked.

"Look, I didn't mean it like that," Gareth called after him. "Alex!"

The door shut behind him assertively, leaving Gareth trying to get up. Mary moved over to him and tried to push him back down. He swatted away her pleading hands and tried to move past her lightly.

Emma walked over to the two and sighed heavily. "I'll get him."

"I can," Gareth said, his voice was half way between annoyed and indifferent. "He's being an idiot."

She'd already began walking to the door. "If I'm not back in five minutes, then come out."

Before either could reply, she was already closing the heavy wood into it's frame and climbing down the few short stairs. She could see Alex in the distance, sitting on D block's steps.

"I don't wanna talk," Alex said, when she was close enough.

"Don't have to," she replied casually, sitting beside him. "But it'll make for an awkward time, yeah?"

"Look I just - I get tired of Gareth's bullshit. He always does this. All that macho leader bullcrap. I know that I'm not like him, I can't survive like he can. I can survive though, I'm not useless."

"Sure," Emma responded, picking at the peeling paint of the step. "I know."

Alex scoffed. "Do you?"

"If you were useless you'd be dead."

A moment of silence went by before he spoke again. "But this really isn't living, is it?"

Emma wasn't sure what to say to that. In fact, she wasn't even sure what she thought of it._ Living was breathing, right? Or was there some more deep psychological freedom needed to confirm life?_ She wasn't sure.

"Well shit, I don't know."

Alex scoffed out a laugh and breathed in. "Me neither."

"Let's go inside, yeah? I'm freezing."

"Gareth is probably pissed," he sighed, standing up.

"Isn't he always?"

"Not always," he paused a moment, as if considering his next words carefully. "Not with you."

Emma scoffed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She wondered why he was saying this, besides working outside Gareth and her hadn't spent that much time together, excluding when he was sick. She and Gareth had spent a lot of time together then, but he was fever ridden and she was too tired to function properly anyway. "I'll take your word for it."

He didn't reply until they were both standing to leave. "There was this girl a couple years ago. Gareth really liked her. She was from his work. He'd never admit it, but he gave her looks and joked around with her more than anyone. It was like he was... better with her, kinda, than with anyone else."

Emma didn't catch his meaning, she didn't think Gareth was like that with her. "So?"

"So he likes you," Alex seemed annoyed at having to say it; _jealous_.

Unable to come back with something to say, she stuffed her hands in her pockets and looked down. _Gareth doesn't care about me like that, that's bullcrap. Besides, he barely knows me. I barely know him._

The thought then occurred to her unwelcome; _I sat with him for three days._

Emma tried to recall a single time that Gareth - besides through his illness - had shown any sign of interest in her. They'd known each other only a short while, but in a world where you could die any second of any day, it seemed like a lifetime.

There wasn't much there, regardless. Emma associated Mary with her closest companion in the group, though her and Gareth did do things together occasionally, she supposed. It was often them that got stuck clearing spaces or doing any heavy lifting. They worked well together, so it'd been in everyone's interest.

Their touches weren't prolonged or heart felt, there certainly wasn't any spark when she held onto his shoulder or arm. Their conversations weren't extremely grand either. In fact, they mostly spoke about survival, or the occasional joke.

_He joked around with her more than anyone._

Was there something there? She knew that Gareth was more serious with his family, but that's the price of being a leader, being _their_ leader. He wasn't her leader, she didn't need him in the ways they did.

Or_ did_ she need him? Didn't she need them all? Wasn't her idea of personal detachments fading? This was a group now and she was one of them. Groups _needed_ each other.

Her thoughts fell short on the matter, so she pushed them away.

The short walk back was made in silence after Alex's comment, but when they got back to the door he finally spoke. "Don't tell Gareth I said anything, okay?"

There was nothing to tell as far as she was concerned. "Yeah, sure."

Before either could open the door, the knob jiggled and it broke free. Gareth stood on the other side, one hand clutching his ribs. "Five minutes."

"My hero," Emma replied, pushing her way into the door. She was careful not to knock Gareth, or make any contact that might upset his sick body. "Where's Mary?"

"Upstairs."

Alex moved in after her, and for a moment she wondered if he was waiting for something from her. As soon as it occurred to her, he was moving away and down the hall.

"Alex," she called, hoping this wasn't going to be another walk off.

"I'm just seeing Mary. Don't worry."

"Right," she muttered, running a hand through her hair. It was out today, since her elastic snapped last night and she couldn't find anything else to hold it up with.

Turning back around, she noticed that Gareth was still standing with the door open. She raised an eyebrow quizzically at him and he shut it.

"Is he alright?" Gareth asked, though he seemed oddly unfazed.

"Yeah, he's alright," she replied. "Are you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Emma walked over to one of the lounges and plopped onto it, crossing her arms over her chest. "Just being polite."

"When did you start doing that?" he joked.

_Joked._

She felt suddenly defensive. Vulnerable. "Yeah well, can't be total assholes all the time, right?"

Gareth sat down and stared at her. In that moment she couldn't read him. "What did Alex say?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie," he replied. He seemed curious, but also a little irritated.

Emma shuffled in her seat. "Nothing important, alright? Just drop it, yeah?"

Gareth shook his head. "So me, then-"

"Look, Alex just said he thinks -" she paused, searching out the correct words. "that you're a bit off with him."

He was quiet for a moment, the silence deafening. Emma wished that Alex would return and end it, or Mary. No one did, so she decided to say something. "Brothers fight, no big deal."

Gareth rolled his eyes. "Alex-"

Before he could finish the sentence, Alex and Mary stalked back into the room. Mary was sympathetic looking and Alex's face was slightly more red than before.

"We should eat," Mary said, feeling the tension in the room and trying to defuse it.

Emma didn't say anything but nodded, standing up and walking towards their bag of supplies. She pulled a few packets of chocolate - chocolate was one of the only foods they had left - and tossed one to Gareth and Alex, then passed the other beside her to Mary.

Everyone ate in silence, so Emma opted to excuse herself from the awkward glances and go for a walk around the perimeter to eat. No one said anything, or seemed to mind so she let herself out.

The air was cold and there was a strong wind, but she didn't notice it much. Her thoughts couldn't help but stray back to the conversation with Alex, everything else blocked out.

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><p><span><strong>Just a special thank you section to all reviewers:<strong>

**_Leyshla Gisel:_ It truly does, our only hope now of seeing him before is fanfiction. Thanks for another review, you spoil me so!**


	5. Into The Wild

**Title:**** To Live As People**

**Chapter II:**** Into The Wild, Part II**

**Chapter Summary:**** Food supplies are running low & Emma and Gareth decide it's now or never to do a run. But the road is a dangerous place.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own The Walking Dead, I especially do not own it's rightful (and lovely) characters/locations. I do own my own original characters however, as well as the written plot.**

**Notes:**** I know it's been a long time since I updated & I'm not very into this story as much as I once was, but I'll try to keep updates again. I actually didn't edit this very well, so hopefully it's not too choppy. When I started to write this, I did not intend it to turn out so long. I ended up having to cut it in half to be able to fit it in smoothly. I don't want too much of a length difference each chapter. Thus, I'll be releasing "Caged, Part III" to accompany this more fully. The ending might seem a little uneasy due to this, but trust me it'll work out better that way. Please leave a review to let me know my writing is going to good use! I don't really want to update and put so much into something that no one bothers with. A quick review means a lot.**

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><p>OoOoOoOoO<p>

The next morning found Emma leaning over the back of the lounge, seeking out Gareth's temple with her slender fingers. The tips of her cold hand startle him as they lightly graze against his forehead. His back stiffens into knots as she continues to trail her hand over his forehead, and he winces eventually and shakes her hand away, pulling back.

"I'm fine now."

"I'll be the judge of that," she replied, her fingers again making contact with his heated skin. He'd cooled down considerably, but he still felt clammy. "You're still hot."

"I'll be fine for tomorrow," he responded, sitting upright and staring into her eyes. "You know that."

"Yeah... alright," Emma acknowledged his words, running a hand through her waved hair.

Silence followed, as it often did when the two were alone. Gareth talked a lot; survival, food, life. Emma talked little, preferring the comforts of her own mind to tell her about all those things. She didn't want to know what other people thought, she could already do that for herself.

Gareth seemed to understand her need for quiet. Sometimes when deep in thought, they'd both just sit around without saying anything for hours.

Sometimes Emma thought there was something about Gareth that she found solace in. They were the same, in an unconventional kind of way. Both roughed up by the world, but not quite fitting in with the rest of those who were. They were - _both in their own ways_ - leaders and survivors.

They both propagated against all the odds.

"We'll head out in the morning," he finally spoke. "Go East and see what we find. If we can't find anything, then we come back and change routes."

Emma cleared her throat, plopping down to sit. "Sounds good."

OoOoOoOoO

The night descended fast, and the morning came like a thief.

They were both packing their bags, filling it with the essentials. Emma was stuffing a flashlight inside, followed then by a pack of matches. She made sure to place them in the most quickly accessible place, right by the zipper. If everything went correctly they wouldn't need them. She'd argued that it was unnecessary but Gareth was adamant that it might be.

Gareth had wanted to go East, and for a while Emma wasn't sure why and didn't bother to ask. It was only late last night, when everyone but them slept that she thought it might be important to see.

He was sitting on the stairs outside, and she had followed him down to ask. "Why East?"

"That's where we were for a while," he'd replied. "Saw some shops around. Looked empty but might as well try, right?"

She'd nodded and that was the end of it.

Now she was packing to go, hopeful that he was right and the shops held something - _anything_ - useful. The trip might take a couple of hours, he'd estimated. It wasn't something she looked forward to doing, so she expected a payoff in the form of whatever was in those shops.

It was already later than they wanted. The plan was to leave early morning but it was now almost mid day. The food was needed desperately, so they both agreed that leaving later today was better than not going until tomorrow.

"Ready?"

She zipped up the side of her backpack and breathed in, nodding. "Let's do it."

OoOoOoOoO

Mary was standing by the door, arms crossed over her chest. She didn't want them to go, which had been obvious in basically everything she'd said over the last day or two. She even tried to volunteer herself to go with Emma, though Gareth didn't give it any thought at all and dismissed her immediately each time.

Beside her stood Alex, who looked both begrudging and inconvenienced. He was watching Emma, who had flung her backpack over her shoulder and followed Gareth to the door.

"Stay safe," Mary's voice was unsettled. "Don't get hurt. Keep to the tracks, so you can get home," she locked eyes with Emma. "Keep each other safe, _please_."

"We will," Gareth said, his voice was the presence of all composure. "You don't have to worry."

Emma noticed Alex look down and she felt a pang of guilt. It made her feel remorseful at declining his continuous offers to go with her instead of Gareth. "Hey," she said, looking over to him. "I trust you to keep this place safe. You'll do that, yeah?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Yeah, of course."

"Keep mum safe, alright?" Gareth said dutifully.

Alex nodded again. "I can - I will."

The rest of the goodbyes were short. Gareth wasn't big on them, apparently. They'd each hugged Mary and said their words to Alex. Emma made sure to give him a quick hug as well, as a sort of apology. He'd blushed and fumbled over his words after, and she'd shrugged them off.

When they were finally stepping onto the worn down tracks, Emma spoke. "What was that?"

"What?" Gareth asked, inclining his head in her direction.

"_That-_" she nodded back to Terminus; which they'd all been calling it after Emma had declared it to Gareth. "-with your family. You could have at least_ pretended_ to be sad."

"I_ was_," he shot back, aggressively. "I'm supposed to be a leader. I can't just get emotional every time I have to leave somewhere."

"I didn't ask you to-"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore, Emma."

"Fine," she shrugged. It didn't bother her, she just felt disheartened for Mary. She'd really grown on Emma.

They continued along the tracks for a while, not once stopping. The thought of being back too late was something neither took joy in. The creepers - or_ cold bodies,_ as Alex had started calling them - were a lot harder to fight blinded in the dark.

Emma had her hunting knife in hand, while her handgun was tucked into the sheath that normally held her blade. It was a tight fit, but if she put it anywhere else it was like to fall out. Gareth also had a gun, though it was much larger and demanded his full attention; an AK-47.

A creeper emerged from the bushes, followed by another. Both female; clothes dirt infested and torn at all sides. Emma clutched her knife even tighter, moving towards them before Gareth could. They were slow, thankfully, and it didn't take long for her to plunge the knife into the first head, then the next.

Gareth stood next to her, his gun was pointed towards them. Tucked into his belt was a machete, though he didn't pull it out as he couldn't hold both that and his gun. Emma was the one who told him to keep the gun out for extra protection if necessary. They'd agreed that if more than one came then he'd swap and use the machete to help her.

His gun had a strap that snaked around his shoulder to keep the gun connected to his body for quick use. It slowed him down considerably, having both the machete and gun strapped to him, however he didn't complain.

"I coulda helped," Gareth said, sounding snappy. "Don't be so stupid next time, huh."

Emma pulled her knife from the creeper's skull, emitting a loud crack into the air. "It's no big deal."

"What if you got killed?" he snapped. "What then, Emma?"

"It was two creepers," she responded, raising her voice. "Besides, what do you care if I do?"

Gareth took a step towards her, giving her a stern face. "I'm responsible for this group-"

"Whoa, hold on," Emma laughed, raising her eyebrows. "When did this become _your sole _responsibility?"

"It always has been, Emma. That's my family back there. You let us in-" he stopped short for a moment, pausing to listen. "Look-"

He stopped short again, this time breaking eye contact and staring off into the bushes behind her. He made a shushing gesture and Emma turned around quickly, searching out what he was seeing. It took but a second to notice the herd coming forwards. _Ten - twenty - shit._

"C'mon," Gareth said, gripping his gun tightly. "They haven't seen us yet."

Emma quickly followed behind him, running along the tracks in suit. Their boots were loud as they hit the ground, crunching against the fallen leaves and dead overgrowth.

So far they had walked - and this was purely guess work on Emma's behalf - about an hour. They wouldn't reach their destination for at least another hour, and until they got there they had nowhere else to hid. No houses nor shelters were anywhere to be seen.

They continued to run down the tracks - Emma had estimated about ten minutes - until the creepers were out of sight. Her throat felt tight and her legs couldn't take much more, so she began to slow down.

"Here," Emma gasped out, her breath jagged and lost. "Stop, stop."

Gareth stopped in front of her, kneeling down as he caught his breath in gasps. "We can go a bit longer-"

"Five minutes," she huffed, holding her hand up to display her five fingers as she knelt.

Gareth nodded after a moment's consideration. "Five minutes."

The time passed too quickly, Emma still reeling with a thumping headache. Gareth stood and declared the time up, all too fast for her liking. When she went to complain he raised his eyebrows at her and she avoided the fight by sighing heavily and standing.

"How long do think we've been walking?" he asked when they started to move again. "I've estimated around an hour."

"Yeah, me too."

Gareth nodded matter of factly, and gave that look that reminded Emma why he was a leader. "Good."

OoOoOoOoO

The rest of the walk was faster than expected, though they had made another stop due to a run in with another herd. They'd hidden behind a large expense of rock and tree, waiting for the creepers to pass before sneaking out and running down the tracks.

They had a few more run ins with the creepers - Gareth started calling them cold bodies too now - but it was easily handled in all cases. After the incident with Emma and the two creepers - _cold bodies_, she reminded herself - Gareth had taken out his machete and let the strapped gun fall to his side.

When they reached the end of the tracks, Gareth informed her that there was a few isolated houses up ahead, followed by some more walking before getting to any more. She was skeptical of their safety as they began walking up. _What if there were even more of them in groups?_

Sensing her unease, Gareth spoke up. "We sneak in through the back. They won't see us but if they do, we get the hell out of there. Be smart, live another day."

Emma nodded her agreement and continued the short walk to the houses. In their view was about eight houses, all spread apart on open land. Already she could see three creepers roaming around the yards.

They snuck around the back, making sure to go the longer route and stay hidden behind the trees and bushes surrounding them. They moved slowly, and Emma made sure to make as little noise as possible when they got to one of the back gates.

It took a painstakingly long time to get to the backdoor. They kept near the fence, making sure their footfalls weren't loud enough to draw attention. Gareth moved silently, reminding Emma of a hunter moving after prey.

The door was locked, of course. Gareth moved around to the windows, checking if they could be opened. Emma kept watch, making sure that none of the creepers got too close.

"Here," Gareth whispered, nodding his head to one of the glassed windows.

Emma helped him pull it up, careful not to let it drop down on him as he climbed into it. When it was her turn, she put the blade on the sill and expertly slid inside, taking less than half the time it took Gareth.

"Done that a lot?" he asked, sarcastically.

She rolled her eyes and pulled her blade from the window sill. "Actually I have, yeah."

They scouted the house, searching for anything of use. No one was inside, but there was still some good preserved foods left behind. Gareth found a few things in the kitchen cupboard; some cans, a couple of containers of assorted nuts, two bottles of soda, packets of pretzels, jars of sandwich spread.

He filled his bag to the brim, making sure to stuff in as much as possible. "We'll need more room in the bags if we wanna get everything."

"Yeah," she replied, her mind wondering elsewhere. There was a picture of a young couple framed and hung onto one of the crisp white walls. They looked so happy.

"Emma," Gareth said, noticing her distracted response.

"Sorry," she turned back to him. "Yeah?"

"We should check upstairs then go."

She hummed in response, then headed for one of the doors that lead to any sign of the stairs. Gareth followed behind her, his backpack flung over both shoulders and machete ready in his hands.

The stairs were carpeted and clean, the walls that ran along their sides an off cream white, crisp and dull. Clinging to them were frames of the two people who had lived here; a fresh faced man and woman. Each picture displayed their light-hearted happiness. Emma found that she had to look away from them.

The upstairs area was clear, thankful those who lived here had cleared out and left a long while ago, from the looks of it. Gareth was in one of the rooms, making sure there was nothing useful left before they moved on.

Emma was waiting by the stairs, her arms crossed and sleeves pulled over her fingers for warmth. It was hard to ignore all the hanging portraits, so she allowed her eyes to wander aimlessly along the walls. One in particular caught her eye. It was written on creamy white paper that had folded crease lines along four edges, with a photo of the girl and another man hidden underneath it, as it's backdrop.

_You've finally done it,_

_I'm so happy that you've found someone to spend your life with, I'm praying that you both have the most wonderful wedding. I'm sorry I couldn't be there, but I love you very much. I hope he doesn't get wise and drop out, that'd be a real laugh! Miss you, Lils. See you November._

_Your brother,_

_Henry xxx_

The words stung to read, so much so that Emma had to look down. Her eyes felt watery and she breathed in a heavy breath, determined not to let them fall. The letter reminded her of so much. _Her brother._

"Ready?" Gareth said, his voice closer than she expected.

She quickly turned away from his view, feeling embarrassed. Gareth couldn't see her cry, not him of all people. Not when he thought she was strong, stronger than _this_.

She wiped away a stray tear with her sleeve. "Yeah."

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><p><span><strong>Just a special thank you to all my reviewers:<strong>

**Leyshla Gisel:**** Thank you for keeping this story going by giving me the motivation to continue!**

**msh-2930: Thank you very much, I'm hopeful you'll enjoy the rest of this story. I look forward to your input & more lovely reviews! **


	6. Caged

**Title:**** To Live As People**

**Chapter II:**** Caged, Part III**

**Chapter Summary:**** A run goes terribly wrong, Emma & Gareth must seek refuge. Tensions are high, with feelings at an all time high as well.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own The Walking Dead, I especially do not own it's rightful (and lovely) characters/locations. I do own my own original characters however, as well as the written plot.**

**Notes: ****This chapter is quite long & poorly edited, so please excuse my lack of time in doing this. Once I started writing I just couldn't find a place where I wanted to end it. I hope this chapter can fill some of the growing tension of Gareth and Emma's relationship. It took me a long while to write mainly due to trying to get the characters down right. It can be so hard to figure out what they'd all say, sometimes. I'm quite nervous about this one, so please do review and tell me what you think about it.**

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><p>OoOoOoOoO<p>

It was strange just how quickly things could change.

Emma and Gareth were in the fifth house when they heard it. It was unmistakable; and quite frankly Emma felt immensely obtuse for not realizing sooner.

Cold bodies lined the outside of the houses, moaning and moving in union. A pack of them had collated around the area; an oncoming herd. There was still three houses left unchecked along the street, but they didn't seem to matter much now. They had enough anyway.

There were four bags now, all brimming with their collected essentials. When they'd run out of room with their first two they had went in search for anything else they could carry more items in. Emma had found a hiking bag - almost triple the size of her own - inside one of the houses, while Gareth found another a couple houses down, though considerably smaller.

"Oh shit," Emma peered out of the window, letting the shades fall softly besides her, careful as not to make any sounds.

"How many?" Gareth asked, though he was already making his way to look for himself.

Slumping downwards, she lent her head against the frame of the window, closing her eyes tightly. There was more than twenty stumbling around in the yards, spread out like a wild fire. More were moving out from the bushes and staggering into the neighborhood. _Dozens._

"Bloody hell," Emma hissed quietly. "Where'd they all come from anyway?"

"There's some shops down further East, big place. That's my guess," he said, swatting down beside the window.

"We should make a run for it. Just grab our shit and-" she made a running gesture with her hand. "-get the hell outta here."

"No," Gareth responded. "We need to go back the way we came, and that's where they're coming from. We won't make it."

East was the way they'd come, and it was the way they had to go back to find Terminus again. There was no tracks on the opposite breakthrough side, and any others besides the East route could take hours more and would be unfamiliar territory regardless.

She shook her head, breathing in an angry sigh. "What then?"

"We wait 'em out."

"It's getting late. It'll be dark soon."

"We wait all night if we have to," he replied, his voice had a calm edge to it but she could sense the underlining panic _and_ danger.

"All night?"

"Your patience has no end, huh?" he replied, dryly.

"What about Mar-"

Gareth cut her off, his voice raised slightly. "I know, alright," he ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm doing what I can."

They stared at each other for a moment, eyes locked onto one another. Gareth broke the contact, standing up and gripping his gun. "We should lock everything up."

She nodded and began to stand, her legs wobbly beneath her. Her stomach was hurting, clenching up into tight little knots and stiffening her back. There was far too many out there and the moment any of them caught sight or smell of her and Gareth... well, _game over._

The windows all had to be locked and shut so that no light got inside or out. Emma went around to them all, swatting as she got close enough and clicking the locks into place. They barred the back doors with furniture; cushioned chairs, large wooden tables, as well as units of stands and lamps.

The front doors were more problematic. Dragging the heavy furniture to pile against it would be a loud and slow process. The creepers were roaming through the yard, wandering aimlessly until they heard anything that might sound like a meal.

"Just lock it and leave it." Gareth said, shaking his head.

Emma moved over to it and slowly crouched down when she neared the closest window. Sliding the lock into place, she moved back to the side where Gareth stood, careful not to let her silhouette reach the outside.

Everything was barred and locked up. It was an odd thing that she felt so much safer with them all closed. If the creepers did see them then what would stop them from huddling together and breaking down the doors? Emma thought it was a useless notion, though comforting nonetheless.

They set everything up downstairs, in one of the smaller and windowless rooms. Emma brought a few blankets from the lounge room and threw them onto the floor, opposite each other for them both. She also found some candles in one of the cupboards, as well as a fire lighter.

Gareth was still upstairs, keeping watch over the cold bodies outside. She knew he was restless to get back, but after the first hour of moans and banging outside, she was thankful that they didn't rush it like she wanted. Alex could watch over both himself and Mary, so she knew they'd be fine.

It was them she was worried about, Gareth and her. The bodies outside were consistent, with time only more joining the ranks. Gareth admitted to thinking that they'd move on after a while, as they often did when nothing was found in one area. He was wrong; they were huddling together. The thought hadn't occurred to either before, though it was a constant worry now.

This place could be overrun, then what hope at getting home did they have?

They'd both negotiated and worried over their own plans, but eventually came to an understanding. The agreement was that if by mid-day tomorrow they weren't gone, they'd make a run for it in whatever direction they crowded least and make their way from there.

Being stuck in the house wasn't an idea that either could entertain, nor draw light from; though trying to leave was an even greater of two evils.

"How is it?" Emma asked when he came back, stepping into the room and leaning his gun against the wall.

"Worse," he sighed, kneeling down beside her.

There was a long silence, before Emma stood up and began dusting imaginary flecks off her jeans. "We should eat. It's getting late."

"I'm not hungry," he protested, shaking his head. "Save it."

She took a large container out of her bag, walking over to Gareth and plopping down beside him. "Well I'm starving, so..." She jiggled the container in front of his face before bringing it down in between them. "Let's eat, yeah?"

"Emma-"

"No, no. C'mon eat," she brought it up to him again, but he looked ready to decline. "Alright, I'll say it - _Please_?"

He took some begrudgingly, simply because she asked so nicely he informed her, then tightened up again. "I figure we head out tomorrow mid-day, like planned. Should be more clear by then."

Emma dropped her hand away from the mix, standing up. "I'm gonna check upstairs again. Eat, alright? I don't wanna see you die from starvation." she said, nodding to the food with a stern face, then heading towards the hollow doorway.

It only took a couple of minutes before she was kneeling at the window, peeling back a small corner of the drapes to peek out.

It was late afternoon, judging by the orange sky. It would be dark very soon. They'd have to lock up and light a candle, but carefully as not to let the flame be seen by anything other than them.

She counted over thirty cold bodies moving through the yards. She wondered if it would have been worth the risk to leave before, but came to the conclusion that it wouldn't have. It had already been too late, it would've been dark by the time they were getting back. Too dark to fight in, with the flashlight only drawing attention to them. The bodies had already made their way onto the tracks anyway.

If they could get past the cold bodies - and Emma thought it was a possibility - they'd only end up having to deal with another herd on the way back. They were coming from around that way, probably from at least a half hour distance. It was best to wait till morning when they could start at a hundred percent.

They were losing interest, more than likely. By tomorrow - and that was only _if_ they could both avoid being noticed in the mean time - they'd most likely by heading in the opposite direction, looking for food that way.

Still it confused Emma. _Why were they sticking around?_

Coming up short on an answer, she decided to head back downstairs. Gareth probably hadn't eaten like she'd asked, so she'd most likely need to talk him into it. The idea of either dying now - inside the house of all places - or being too weak to function outside wasn't a notion she was putting up with.

When she got back into the room however, he'd eaten a good portion of the nut mix. She nodded her approval. "It's a shit storm out there."

"Wasn't gonna change in a few minutes," he replied, dryly.

Emma rolled her eyes, sitting back done beside him and picking up the trail mix, popping some into her mouth. "A rock and a hard place, Gareth."

He laughed, somewhat bitterly. "That's one way to describe it."

The room was dim now, as little light got in through the doorway. Her second bag held a few candles, along with a small portion of matches. She crawled over to it and began digging through it, searching out her items. When she found them, she placed them in the middle of the floor and stood to close the slider on the doorway.

Her hands were shaking badly again, though this time it was unprovoked. The tightness in her stomach had yet to go away and she felt the food rising there.

"We should sleep soon, so we can head out first thing," Emma said, sliding down beside him and pulling her bag upwards into her lap. After rummaging inside for a moment, she pulled out a curved glass bottle, half full of liquor.

"Hey," Gareth said, voiced raised slightly. "What exactly are you doing? Seriously?"

She raised it to her lips. "I'm thirsty."

"You are not getting drunk," He told her sternly, with a firm voice.

"I'm _not_," she replied. And as an afterthought she spoke again. "I just need something with an edge, okay? I'm only having a little."

He looked ready to protest, his brow knitted in irritation. Emma spoke over him, before he got the chance to complain. "Gareth, I don't wanna hear it, okay? I'm not gonna get blackout drunk, or whatever you think of me."

"Fine," he replied, devoid of the emotion he held only a moment ago. "Why should I care what happens to you anyway."

The room was getting dark and it was harder to read his expression, so she decided to roll her eyes and forfeit a reply.

Her head felt too banged about to truly be able to argue, though she knew come tomorrow he'd probably make some snide comments that elicited a reaction from her. For now she was contented with lounging back and ignoring him, focusing only on the gentle beats of her heart and setting out her place for rest.

The bottle made a small clank noise as she placed it onto the ground, moving on her knees towards the candles and matches. She lit four, the room coming alive with an ominous orange glow, then sat back down.

She could see Gareth more clearly now. He was sitting closer than she remembered - though that was her fault, as she was the one who sat next to him - and had his head leaning against the wall, eyes closed.

He looked peaceful like this. The light of the flames flickered around his features, giving them an alluring glow of golds and auburns. She remembered him like this when he was ill, laying across the sofa with his eyes shut. Three days worth of it had her down to a peg when it came to his features.

_I sat with him for three whole days._

She placed the bottle of liquor down, capping it. The next few minutes she spent looking over his features, for no particular reason other than boredom.

He remained tranquil in appearance, though for a moment his brow furrowed in what Emma could only assume was worry.

"They're gonna be fine," Emma said, after a moment of watching him.

"You don't know that," he replied, unmoving.

She continued to stare, watching the shadows of the flames lick up his neck. "_We_ made it, didn't we?"

"Doesn't mean they did, does it?"

"Look," she considered him for a moment. "It means they're safe, alright? Terminus - it's safe. Gotta be."

Gareth fidgeted, then opened his eyes to her. For a moment they both watched each other, in comfortable silence. "Things change, right? Anything could have happened to Terminus by now."

"Have a little faith, yeah?" Her tone came out a little harsher than intended, and her head thrummed a few beats.

He paused for a moment, watching her closely, then shook his head and looked away.

Emma leaned her head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. "You've got family, there's a reason to not give up, right? That's gotta count for something."

He pondered her words for a moment. "What happened to yours?"

Her mind protested against speaking about it, but she took in a deep sigh and began regardless. "Gone. Brother, parents, boyfri- ex-boyfriend. Guess that's just life now, right?" She remembered her tears in the first house and felt hypocritical for saying so, but even with her strongest voice her words still faltered slightly.

"I'm sorry, Emma," Gareth said, pulling himself up against the wall a little, crossing his legs. "You know Mary - _mum_ - once told me that," he paused for a minute, licking his lips. "people have a way of coming together for the better. Maybe that's why we met. Maybe... maybe you're right. Terminus is fine and we get back, maybe we can start something."

"Something like?" she asked, watching him intently. He looked deep in thought, she noticed from the way his eyes pooled into themselves, rich and dark. The thought occurred to her that he had beautiful eyes, the soulful kind.

"Let people in. Be good - _decent_ - people."

"I don't know," she turned her head to face him, noticing their close proximity once again, but doing nothing to lengthen it. "It could work... but it might not."

"We could at least try. There's gotta be good people left, right?"

She was about to answer her uncertainty, but then caught his eye and her thoughts drifted from those conclusions. "Yeah, I think so," she answered honestly.

He nodded, then reached out. For a heart stopping moment she wondered if he was reaching for her, to grab her hand or...

"To new beginnings?" to her surprise he held the liquor up, and she nodded.

He took a swig and then passed it to her. She gingerly reached for it, making sure to hold it from the bottom, so their fingers didn't brush as she took it. For a moment she wished that they had, which stopped her short altogether.

She heard Alex's voice in her head, a sudden noise that frightened her and made her falter. _He likes you._

"Emma?"

"Yeah, sorry, what?" she replied, slipping back from her momentary daze.

He handed her the glass and she knitted her eyebrows in confusion, not quite sure when she had gave it back to him. He noticed her hesitance and asked what was wrong.

"Nothing," she replied, taking it from the bottom again.

The idea was quite sudden and unwarranted. The idea that she wanted to touch him, which worried her - _why now_? The only thing she could chalk it up to was her own loneliness. The last person she was with was Vic, months ago now. The sudden closeness was probably spawned from some silly desire to be with another person. The heat emitting from her neck and dancing down her spine was probably confirmation of this.

Emma remembered the first time she felt that way, she was around twenty-one and had a little too much to drink at her friend's house. She had a recent breakup and wanted someone who could just hold her - be with her. She hadn't even liked him, she recalled with a slight twitch.

"Doesn't look like nothin'," he said, folding his hands in his lap. She thought briefly about reaching out and taking them in her own, feeling another person's skin against her own again. The sudden urge leaving her gawking for a moment.

She cleared her throat and stood, fearful that she might do something unwanted. "It was."

Emma picked up her bag and started packing the container back into it, making sure to leave room for the other items in the morning. She busied herself with the job for a few minutes, feeling Gareth's eyes burning into her back.

"What did Alex say to you that night?" he asked, slowly. "I'm curious."

She paused for a minute and contemplated saying it - _asking it_ - but remembered her promise to Alex. She couldn't think of a single thing to say, and Gareth was looking at her expectantly. "He said that he had feelings..." she wondered if what she was saying was a good idea. "... for me."

_What the bloody hell, Emma? What am I saying? Of course it's not a good. bloody. idea._

Regardless, she looked up at Gareth and waited for a reaction. She felt bad for throwing Alex under the bus like that, but it did two things; it kept her promise to Alex - _technically_ - and it showed her what Gareth thought on the idea; gave _her_ an idea.

He smiled slowly, a small chuckle escaping his throat huskily. "Yeah, I bet he did."

"What does that mean," she gauged, watching him.

"It means he's an idiot," he replied, licking his lips quickly. "Alex always does this."

"Does what?"

He shook his head, eyes falling to the ground, still smiling slightly. "It's nothing important."

"Oh, don't do that," she snorted, quirking an eyebrow at him. "If it's not important then tell me." She crossed her arms and glanced at him, her dark eyes catching a spark from the fire.

He was quiet for a moment, smiling that smile of his that was all teeth. "I meant it's nothing interesting," he shrugged, as if that ended it.

Emma was determined not to let it go. "I'll guess then," she said, sitting back beside him and stretching out her legs. "Alex always... falls in love?"

Gareth chuckled. "No- well _yes_," he tilted his head in mock concentration. "that he does do."

"But that's not it then?" she replied, and when he casually shrugged she continued. "Alex always... talks about his feelings too much? No wait," she noticed him raise an eyebrow as if she was wrong and decided that she felt brave, watching his eyes sparkle in the flame like they did. "Alex always shows interest in people... you're interested in?"

The last words were drawn out, Emma taking sips of liquor in between to keep up her surge of lion-heartedness. He didn't reply for a minute, so she tilted her head at him and waited for a reaction.

"Is that what you think?" he asked apprehensively, his voice husky from the drink. "That I'm interested in you?"

It was only a light-hearted conversation but his question sounded more serious and Emma could swear that the air thickened a little. She wondered if she shouldn't of played this game at all. "Just going through the motions," she shrugged, trying to seem indifferent.

He looked at her for a moment. "If I was interested in you, it's not a big deal anyway, right? I mean, what's the point in the big secrecy, y'know?"

"Right," she smiled at him, for once at a lose for words. "Yeah, totally."

"So..." he said passively, leaning against the wall. "guess that solves the mystery, huh?"

Emma couldn't help but smirk at his complaisant answer. She could tell there was an edge of nervousness bubbling beneath the surface, something that Gareth wouldn't let show. He could be so calm sometimes, such a leader like figure.

"Look," he finally said, as if an afterthought. "I get that we don't know each other that well, but I don't know, I feel... comfortable with you. I'm not trying to hit on you or anything," he told her, suddenly aware that he might come across as such. "I'm just telling you. You wanted to know."

Her stomach started to form tight knots again. "I know," she replied, weary of her actions and even more so of her words. "I'm glad you told me."

She wanted to slip her hand into his, or lean into his arms, but she thought better of it. It wasn't that she didn't want to do it, because looking at him bathed in the glow of the candles she wanted it more than anything, but because she knew she wasn't thinking right.

She wasn't drunk, nor was he. In fact they'd only had small portions, both careful not to let the liquid be able to affect their actions. They'd had enough to smile more easily, or talk more frequently to each other, but not much else. It was in Emma's cold skin and twitching fingers that she didn't trust. The lonely weeks she had had that was making her feel the needs of desire, clouding judgement.

Emma noticed the candles burning down and wondered how much time they'd spent talking. Tomorrow would be an early day, they needed all the energy they could get.

"Gareth," she said, her words clipped and soft.

"Emma?" he replied, turning to face her with an expression she couldn't quite read.

"We should sleep."

And so they did.


End file.
